


when the mirror won't crack, but you do

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Probably some other things, Self-Harm, Triggers, no actual suicide tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16804858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Baekhyun can’t stand the sight of his face.





	when the mirror won't crack, but you do

**Author's Note:**

> this might trigger you.

Baekhyun can’t stand the sight of his face. He never has. There have only been a couple of periods in his life where he’s taken a selfie and thought, yeah, not too bad, but they never last for long.

It’s not a recent phenomenon. He has always felt this way: lesser, inferior, abnormal. Maybe it was the bullying when he was young, or because he felt like no one wanted to be his friend. He figures something must have happened back in school that he’s now blocked out.

Sometimes it goes away – ‘it’ being the indisputable hatred he holds for himself whenever he sees his reflection in a shop window or a blacked-out computer screen. Sometimes he’s distracted by work, friends, his hobbies. And it’s okay then. He’s not thinking about it; is too preoccupied to think about it. He might even dare to think he’s cured, only for it all to come back the minute the room is too quiet and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

It returns in the form of hopeless sobbing, similar to that of when you’ve lost a family member. Baekhyun cries into his fist and curls himself up in a ball until his chest aches and his eyes sting, mourning for the person he could have been if he _just didn’t look this way._ He thinks life would be easier if he was attractive. If he at least liked what always stared back at him in the mirror. But that—that _thing_ he sees never changes. It’s disgusting. He’s deformed. And he wonders how he has the guts to get out of bed and walk outside the front door every day. How he can put on a smile and pretend everything’s alright, when he knows his smile makes him look fat and sits funny on his face?

Occasionally, he’ll stare at himself. In silence and alone, he will examine and scrutinise every one of his features, just trying to find something he likes. Something he could love. He knows it would be baby steps. One thing at a time. But what do you do when you can’t find anything? When there’s absolutely _nothing_ you could ever hope to love about yourself? No one seems to have an answer for that. It makes him feel so low, like the life has been sucked out of him, so much so that he’ll snatch whatever t-shirt he can find on his floor and cover the mirror the best he can. It’ll save him from the spots he still gets and the undereye bags he can’t shift. The fat on cheeks that persists and the small eyes he can’t change.

The worst part is, there is nothing he can do about it. Or, nothing he can _afford_ to do about it. An extrovert drowning with anxiety a cannonball. He struggles to walk down the street, feeling like he’s too ugly to be there, like he’s a stain on the human race. He wears makeup sometimes but it never makes it better. Layers and layers and at best he’s okay, never pretty, never beautiful. It’s something no one can refute. No one has told him otherwise.

Chanyeol tries. He can say things that make Baekhyun forget himself. Forget the monster he lives and walks around with. He can be happy and normal and it feels _good._ But then Chanyeol will want a picture, will want to kiss him, will want to _touch_ him, and Baekhyun feels physically sick. He always cried before their dates. Always felt nauseous when he first got to them. Chanyeol was settling for less, being with him. Maybe Baekhyun made him feel better about himself and the way he looked. Baekhyun figured Chanyeol was just too polite to turn down a second date. Couldn’t call him ugly to his face.

The voice in his head tells him that Chanyeol could be so much happier with someone else. When they go out and he sees all the attractive men he knows would be Chanyeol’s type, he’s overcome with guilt. He’s holding him back. He’s restraining him. But Chanyeol is all he has.

He does his best to deserve him. He tries to lose weight and look nice, do well in school. No matter what he does though, he knows it’s not enough. Nothing could ever make up for what people have to look at every day when they talk to him. And even then, some people don’t. He supposes he’s an eyesore. People don’t want to make eye contact with him in a group conversation, even when he speaks; and when he’s alone, he’s either invisible or everyone is staring at him. They judge, frown, and Baekhyun knows they’re wondering how someone could ever have the nerve to come outside looking like that.

Getting help has never been a feasible option. It’s already hard to get out of bed in the morning, let alone see a doctor. He’s afraid they’ll tell him that nothing’s wrong. There’s no illness. No disorder. It’s all just _you_ and you have to live with it forever. It makes him think of disappearing. He wants life as he knows it to end, to be reborn as someone else, wake up with a different face and a different body that’s not fat or unsightly or disfigured or flawed. He wants to wake up as someone pretty and finally start living, not just existing, not just being a side character in his own life.

But he knows that will never happen. He looks in the mirror and wonders _how could I ever love this?_ and it breaks his heart. Tears flow for hours. He neglects, loses, his friends. And he feels so alone. Only scissors for company.

He knows it’s wrong. It’s just, it doesn’t feel wrong. He started off with blunt ones that gave him something reminiscent of a cat scratch: a long thin scar all the way up his leg. Then he bought new scissors. The trenches they made in his skin were almost mesmerising, and he watched them flood with blood until it stung and the burn spread, and beads of blood were forming on his skin. He wiped them away with cotton pads. Focused on the pain as he tried to fall asleep. So preoccupied with everything else, it’s good to have a blank mind before bed. It allows him to feel something. Remember that he’s real and he’s here and he’s hurting.

It also reminds him of the failure he is. How he didn’t do well in his essays, and he still hasn’t gotten a job, and he can hardly afford to live because his face and his body are so fucking selfish that he can’t concentrate on anything else. Five cuts at once, done quick so the pain can kick in when they’re all done. It makes him feel sick, warm, dizzy, and his vision goes dark. Several times he’s almost fainted. And he realises the next day, with bright red scars on his legs, his arms, that he doesn’t have long enough clean clothes to cover them.

He could never let Chanyeol see. Could never let anyone see. How would he answer the questions that would come from it? He can’t. Not with important exams so close. He can’t afford to have a breakdown and suffer academically because of it. Thus, nothing gets solved. His problems don’t go away. His life doesn’t get better. He still can’t let Chanyeol in, despite how guilty it makes him feel.

It will get too much one day. He knows he can’t properly transition into adulthood like this. Chanyeol will leave him and he’ll be alone forever. No one will ever love him again. No one will marry him. His own mind will drive him into the dirt and tell him he’s a failure before he’s even tried, and there’s nothing he can do about it. It feels like there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Baekhyun simply hopes that people won’t be too upset when he’s gone. He isn't going to last long enough to find out if things will be okay.


End file.
